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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588631">And Sew</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fracnkie/pseuds/fracnkie'>fracnkie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>How to Make Friends with Your Toy Soldier [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Descriptions of Blood, Found Family, Gen, Guns, I am literally incapable of not talking about the Toy Soldier on a regular basis, I had to rephrase one of these sections, Jonny actually does care about the Toy Soldier fuck you, appreciate the Toy Soldier or die by my hands, because Jonny says he uses fucking body paint for his eye lines, it's a problem, so I'm just going to deal with that and then break something</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:13:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fracnkie/pseuds/fracnkie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The benefits of teaching your Toy Soldier to do the following: sew, do makeup, how to cure a sore throat, and how to shoot a plasma blaster.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonny d'Ville &amp; The Toy Soldier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>How to Make Friends with Your Toy Soldier [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>269</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And Sew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a longer one that I've been working on and off on for about a week or so but finally cranked the entire thing out within the last two days. Once again and as always, this is betaed by KersPastei who I can't believe puts up with me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a while (centuries, eons, millennia) of living with the same people, you memorize how they walk. For example, Nastya always wears iron-soled boots and walks with a light, quick pace. Tim almost skips his steps and wears soft leather shoes that don’t make much of a sound. Ivy walks in a steady, even pace with her wooden soles that click throughout the halls. </p><p>In the hallway outside of Jonny’s open door, he hears heavy combat boots walk in a march and he knows it’s the Toy Soldier. He isn’t doing much, just sitting with his back against the headboard with a journal in his lap to write lyrics down in, so he isn’t bothered too much when the Toy Soldier walks in. It appears from the left side of his door, a solemn look on its face as it looks down at its hands, which are holding what seems to be a folded-up uniform. </p><p>“Can I come in?” the Toy Soldier asks, its tone still jovial and light despite looking rather distraught.</p><p>“Come in,” Jonny replies in a gruff tone, gesturing it in, only to look back down at his notes. “What do you need, doll?”</p><p>The Toy Soldier steps in first, not bothering to glance about the room, which is a mess. There are papers in random places and discarded snack bags in others. The desk a few feet from his bed is clean, though, only holding a stack of three books with his sewing box on top. The Toy Soldier walks over to the desk and gently deposits the uniform on it, letting it slip from its hands like sand before it turns to face Jonny with its feet in a perfect, soldier-like position. </p><p>“Please mend this for me,” it says, gesturing one of its hands at the uniform.</p><p>“What is that?” Jonny asks, letting his legs fall and setting the journal aside. He squints at the fabric like doing so will unfold it.</p><p>The Toy Soldier grabs the uniform and gently unfolds it, holding the fabric in its hands ever-so-carefully. It’s a uniform from King Cole’s war, one from the Rose Red side. If Jonny remembers correctly, and he probably doesn’t, it’s a normcolonel’s uniform. The thing looks old and tattered, dust clinging to the seams and frayed edges everywhere. It’s missing a few buttons along the center and a whole epaulet is gone and the remaining one is holding on by only a few threads. It was a complete and utter mess of a uniform and has to be the oldest thing the Toy Soldier owns.</p><p>“When the fuck did you get <em> this </em>?” he asks, swinging his legs off of the bed. “That has to be eons old, doll.”</p><p>The Toy Soldier doesn’t answer for a second, merely staring at Jonny as he approaches rather slowly, taking in what remains of the uniform.</p><p>“Can you fix it?” it asks instead, the jovial tone waning as it tries to understand the odd look Jonny gives.</p><p>“I can try,” he says. </p><p>He carefully moves to take it from the Toy Soldier. It lets him, lowering its hands once it’s sure he has a good grip on it where it won’t fall or tear more than it already has. </p><p>“Did you find it like this?” Jonny asks, though he already knows that’s probably not the case.</p><p>“No,” it answers as he expects. “When I took it they reprimanded me for stealing.”</p><p>“Who did?” Jonny asks, somewhat surprised. It didn’t get caught stealing during the Moon War and the others tended to not let it wander if they could help it. They’d rather not lose it and have to go searching around for whatever war it had decided it wanted to fight in.</p><p>“Old Rosie and the other Rose Reds,” it says, now looking at the uniform instead of Jonny.</p><p>“Woah!” Jonny exclaims, looking at the uniform with big eyes. “This thing is old as shit! I haven’t seen it once. How long has it been like this?”</p><p>“I don’t remember.”</p><p>“Alright, well…” Jonny lifts the thing up higher, examining it. “I’ll have to get new fabric when we hit the ground again, so it won’t be done for a while, doll. I can fix what I can for now. Would you mind terribly if I kept it until it was fixed?”</p><p>“I trust you,” the Toy Soldier says, a new smile fixing itself on its face.</p><p>“Perfect,” he says with a fond smile. “Here, let me show you how to do a few basic things so you can fix up uniforms you pick up. I’m sure it’ll come in handy at some point.”</p>
<hr/><p>This time Jonny is sitting in the commons, headphones sturdily over his ears, and focussing entirely on the tablet and notebook in front of him, growing increasingly frustrated at his options when it comes to lyrics and sound and vocalization. He has a lot of options for instruments and singers but by the gods, it’s impossible to work that out with just his dinky tablet. He would usually at least conscript the Toy Soldier for this, having it try out tunes while he works the lyrics closer and closer to the finished product.</p><p>Speak of the devil and it shall appear, or think in this case. A cup of tea in a white mug clinks onto the table in front of him, followed by a second one further away, though that one has a black decal of a mustache on it. Both frustrated by the distraction and grateful for it, he looks up to meet the eyes of the Toy Soldier, who is now sitting across from him at one of the many tables of the commons. Not an uncommon occurrence for anyone to sit at an already occupied table. Jonny always finds it rather lonely to sit across such a large room from someone you know. </p><p>The Toy Soldier isn’t exactly doing anything, really. It sits still with the cup of tea in front of it and a pot in between them. There is a flat, wooden box in front of it on which both its hands sit. It’s staring at Jonny but has done the great and patient courtesy of waiting until Jonny semi-begrudgingly takes off his headphones to speak.</p><p>“Good morning, First Mate!” it says with a smile.</p><p>Jonny deadpans. Not exactly its fault, really. Someone had probably asked it to call Jonny that again instead of captain or even just his name. He thinks he would prefer his name. He doesn’t say that.</p><p>“That’s Captain to you, little rose,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips as he drops his pencil next to his notebook. “What’s in the box?”</p><p>“Paints!” it says, excitement peeling into its voice. “I need to repaint my face and my hands. I’ve already done the sanding on everything.”</p><p>“I forget,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “how often do you have to do that?”</p><p>“I usually do it every year at least once,” it answers simply. “Nastya and Ivy usually help me but I can’t find them.”</p><p>“They’re AWOL right now, little rose.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jonny watches its shoulders drop a little. The tiny tenseness in its hands from the excitement that it was pushing on the box with deflates, letting its hands lay flat on its surface. “When will they be back?”</p><p>“Nastya took a hauler,” he says with a shrug. “I have no clue where Ivy ran off to. Probably somewhere with books and hopefully no fire. But, uhm…” he brings a hand to the back of his neck and looks off to the side. There’s a table next to them piled high with books Ivy dragged out of the archives to read during meals. “Probably not for a few years.”</p><p>The Toy Soldier frowns and lets its gaze fall to the paint box. It’s an old thing, a flat mahogany box with not a spot on its surface. The hinges and the locks look new, a gleaming golden look to them that glitters in the sterile light of the commons.</p><p>“It’s a lot harder to paint my face on my own,” it explains in a shockingly sad tone. “The pilot said we’re going to land on a planet with a story soon. I need to paint my face before we get there.” It looks up, face void of any particular emotion. “Are you sure they won’t be back?”</p><p>“Positive,” Jonny confirms with a nod. He picks up his pencil and twirls it between his fingers, looking at the faded paint on the Toy Soldier’s face. “I could help you.”</p><p>The Toy Soldier blinks a few times rapidly, faded eyebrows pulling inward. “Really?” it asks, voice small. </p><p>“I can try,” he says, shrugging. “I can’t promise I’ll be great at it. Unlike Ivy, I don’t really paint in my free time and unlike the princess, I’m not incredibly deft with my fingers.”</p><p>“You sew, though,” the Toy Soldier says, fingers drifting to the patches of the box. “I have a hard time sewing because my fingers aren’t as deft.”</p><p>“Well, I mean, that’s just practice really,” he says, looking away. “What I’m saying is I can try and if I fuck it up just say so.”</p><p>“You won’t!” it exclaims, a wide smile cracking its face.</p><p>Jonny rolls his eyes and gets up, sitting back down on the chair next to the Toy Soldier as it unlatches the box of wood paints and sealants and brushes. </p>
<hr/><p>It’s two a.m., ship time, and Jonny can’t sleep for the life of him. He hasn’t had any nightmares, he just can’t get himself to drift off as he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom. The first mate’s quarters, not the captain’s. He doesn’t like the captain’s room really. Too big and too… much. Not that it made much of a difference right now as he hears the soft hum of the Aurora trying to get him to finally sleep, not too much success. </p><p>“Sorry,” he says in a quiet voice. “Just not working tonight.”</p><p>He grunts softly as he hauls himself out of bed, bare feet freezing against the metal flooring. A shiver goes up his spine but he ignores it, instead dragging himself to the door, still clad in what could be considered pajamas. It was just a large, loose shirt and his boxers but it’s not like anyone was going to judge him for wandering the ship in his underwear. Well, Nastya might chuck something at his head, but he didn’t particularly care.</p><p>The corridors were silent and dark, the only sounds coming from Aurora’s hum and his feet shambling against the floor like a zombie as he made his way to the commons. He’s surprised to see a light filtering around the corner as he turns toward the doors of the commons. The doors are open, locked into place well enough as a few lights are turned on throughout the large area. The commons are huge, meant for a crew of at least 300 which it never had, not even upon escape from Cyberia. The kitchen and the cafeteria used to be separated by a wall but they had taken that out eons ago. Now the area is full of plush chairs and sofas and far too many stacks of books everyone just neglects to move winding like a maze around the tables that are bolted solidly into the ground. </p><p>Only a couple bright lights stay on in the commons right now, all above the kitchen area, a curved thing of culinary-approved counters and appliances that always feels too… professional for the situation. Jonny sees a figure sitting on one of the counters, back facing him. It’s simple to tell who it is, the Aurora patch on the sleeve of a black uniform easy to identify. </p><p>“What are you doing out here?” Jonny calls in, feet still dragging sleepily across the ground as he pulls himself closer to the kitchen.</p><p>The Toy Soldier turns at the waist, blinking at Jonny in surprise. It’s holding a mug in both of its hands, cradling it carefully. It doesn’t say anything as Jonny approaches, just smiles and waves as it follows Jonny with its eyes until he leans against an opposite counter.</p><p>“Aren’t you usually pretending to sleep right about now?” he asks, looking it up and down.</p><p>“I didn’t feel like it,” it says in a very, very scratchy tone.</p><p>Jonny jumps at this, surprised at the noise that comes from the Toy Soldier’s throat. It doesn’t look embarrassed as it smiles, though, just a bit apprehensive as it sips on its cup of tea.</p><p>“What happened to your voice, songbird?” he asks.</p><p>“Everything sans voice,” it says, voice happy despite the quiet, almost inaudible tone. “Pretended to have a cold. It stuck longer than I wanted to pretend.”</p><p>“Right, right,” Jonny says, working through the reasoning. “You’re not a… traditional mechanism. Your voice doesn’t instantly heal.” It shakes its head and takes another sip of tea. “Does this happen often?”</p><p>It shakes its head again. “I haven’t pretended to be sick before,” it says, smiling still. “I don’t think I’ll try it again. Not much fun, that is.”</p><p>“Well… I think I remember something that could help,” he says, tilting his head in consideration. “It’s not easy to forget. My dad used to make it for me.”</p><p>“I thought you killed him?” the Toy Soldier questions, tilting its head. </p><p>Jonny winces. “Before that,” he explains. “Ah, give me a moment.”</p><p>He turns and reaches up to the cabinets. Quickly, he starts rifling through the one that is very specifically for tea.</p><p>“What are you drinking, songbird?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.</p><p>“Earl Grey,” it says in a whisper.</p><p>“Stop whispering, doesn’t help,” he instructs. “And put the cup down. Caffeine is bad for a sore throat.”</p><p>Confused, the Toy Soldier sets the cup down next to it. It watches Jonny as he pulls out a few tea bags from quite a few boxes and a jar of honey. He grabs the Toy Soldier’s mug, the one with the mustache on it, dumps out the tea in the sink, and puts on a new kettle. Barely thinking about it, he grabs a second cup for himself as well and a teapot. The Toy Soldier watches as he puts in all of the tea bags and it categorizes them. Peppermint, lemon, and chamomile. Weird combination and the Toy Soldier doesn’t think it sounds very pleasant but decides not to question Jonny. He seems to know what he’s doing anyway. </p><p>“Whispering strains your vocal cords,” Jonny explains as the water boils. “Caffeine can actually dry your throat in the long run.” He looks up at the Toy Soldier, who is still a few feet away and sitting on the counter. “Come here, closer to the kettle. It’ll help.”</p><p>The Toy Soldier hops off of the counter and marches over to the kettle, standing close to the oven and beside Jonny, who leans against the counter again. He watches with heavy eyes as the kettle slowly brings to boil before it starts to scream. Quickly, he brings it off the stovetop and pours it in the teapot, leaving just a tiny bit of the room at the top. He then grabs the honey and puts a considerable amount in it before mixing it in and closing the top over it to steep.</p><p>“Do you ever get water damage?” he asks as he stares at the teapot.</p><p>The Toy Soldier shakes its head, hovering near the teapot. “It would be very hard to fight a war if I was damaged in the rain, ol’ chap,” it says.</p><p>“Guess that makes sense,” he says, shrugging. “I think it’s done steeping.” He picks up the teapot and slowly pours out a considerable amount of tea into the Toy Soldier’s cup before his own. “Drink it slowly. Hopefully, it actually works.”</p>
<hr/><p>“So, we have a whole new stock of weapons from Yggdrasil,” Tim explains to Jonny as the Toy Soldier and Brian help Aurora lug on the metal crates full of weaponry. “Unfortunately, Marius, Ivy, and Raph all got arrested while we did so.”</p><p>“How many jailbreaks do we have to do in one century?” Jonny complains, crossing his arms.</p><p>“Well, that’s the good thing!” Ashes says as they walk up the loading dock, tablet in both hands. “They’re in a prison that has the New Midgard Transport Police headquarters which means when the Black Box comes in they’ll be right up next to the action.”</p><p>“So we’re just going to leave them there?” Brian questions, setting down his crate. “Those three? Twenty gold bars say they destroy New Midgard before the Ratatosk Express does.”</p><p>“Ivy will keep them in check,” Ashes says, shrugging as they put their tablet away. “Hopefully. Anyway, this means we won’t have to do something stupid to get close to it like, I don’t know, getting strung up in the only town that still has working hydroponics.”</p><p>“If someone would have just flipped my switch before we got there like I asked it wouldn’t have been a problem,” Brian deadpans, glaring as he walks back down the loading dock. They barely see the top of his middle finger as he disappears.</p><p>“I don’t know about this,” Jonny cuts in. “I mean, the last few times we just left someone on a planet we were late.”</p><p>“Just because we decided to leave you on a <em> completely safe </em> planet and Brian in the sun doesn’t mean we’re going to leave half of the crew in a… solar system destroying whatever the hell,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. He moves to a crate with an excited, crazed look in his eyes. “Plus, they’re the ones who suggested it. They’ll break out if they need to. It’s not a big deal.” </p><p>Tim pops open one of the crates by hijacking the electronic locking system, something he does with practiced ease. He immediately leans half his body into the crate and pulls out a very large gun. It’s very different from the guns they currently use. The safety and aiming are odd and the curvature of the bullets is something that, while Jonny has seen and used, is not common in this timeline. Now that it comes to mind, he doesn’t think most of the crew knows how to use this particular gun set. Well, they’ll learn. Hopefully. If they don’t, they’ll get shot, and that’s not really Jonny’s problem now, is it?</p><p>Despite it not really being his problem, he finds himself sitting outside the Aurora worrying a cigarette between his teeth when the Toy Soldier approaches him with a gun held stiffly in its hand. Almost immediately, he draws his own gun and points it lazily at its head. When it doesn’t stop walking, he changes his aim to its shoulder and shoots, watching chunks of wood splinter off of it from the corner of his eye while he takes a drag of the cigarette.</p><p>“What are you doing, Soldier?” he asks, glancing at it with an annoyed, flat expression.</p><p>“Could you help me with something, ol’ chap?” it asks, stopping a couple of feet away from Jonny, still holding the gun at its side.</p><p>“What is it?” He drops the cigarette on the ground and stomps it in with the toe of his boot.</p><p>The Toy Soldier lifts the gun up but doesn’t aim it at Jonny, instead holding it up awkwardly with a bent wrist as if showing it to him. Jonny looks over the thing, checking to see if there’s anything wrong with it. Finding nothing, he actually looks at the whole thing. Surprisingly, it’s one of the newer guns that they had stolen off of Yggdrasil. Shiny in all its glory with a golden hammer. It looks damned pretty for a gun, even Jonny could admit that. Unlike Tim, he doesn’t get a hard-on for the intricacies of a firearm.</p><p>“I don’t know how to use this,” the Toy Soldier says plainly.</p><p>“Why don’t you ask Tim?” Jonny asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the landing gear.</p><p>“He’s busy taking inventory,” it explains. “Said to go bother Jonny or just try not to shoot myself.”</p><p>“So you came to me, who immediately shot you?” Jonny says, smirking. “Now why did you think that was a good idea?”</p><p>“No one to practice shooting at who isn’t busy,” it says. “Ashes is taking inventory with Tim. Brian is charting a course with Nastya. You’re not doing anything.”</p><p>“I’d rather not be shot at, Soldier,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I can teach you to use it, though. I might be one of the only ones in the crew that knows how to use this style so it’s not trial and error.”</p><p>“That sounds like jolly good fun, Jonny!” it exclaims and Jonny can’t help but enjoy when the Toy Soldier uses his actual name instead of a title. Not that he’d ever admit to that.</p><p>“Alright, hand it over,” the Toy Soldier hands him the gun. “Right, so the safety is in a weird place in this model. It’s actually something you click entirely separately from the trigger, down here.” He points to a small button below the trigger guard. “And the magazine release is on the back below the hammer.” He points to it and then rests his thumb right under it to demonstrate how to hold it. “Aiming is different too. This model doesn’t have a recoil at all because it’s a plasma blaster but the plasma in this one is a lot lighter than the ones we have.” He aims the gun at a tree not too far from them. When he shoots, the bullet flies slightly off to the right in the high winds, missing the tree entirely. “So you have to adjust to the wind.” This time he shoots a little to the left, hitting the tree dead on.</p><p>“May I try?” it asks.</p><p>“Yeah, let me show you.”</p><p>Jonny gently grabs its hand and forms it into the right position, his fingertips scraping oddly on the wooden hand. He guides its hands into a shot toward another tree and lets it press down on the trigger. The shot hits dead on, scorching through the middle of the tree. A smirk pulls at Jonny’s lips.</p><p>“Alright, now do it on your own,” he says, letting his hand fall.</p><p>And it does, and it hits perfectly through a tree. Then a second. Then a third. Jonny puts his hand on the gun after the eighth shot, his brow furrowed in a bemused way.</p><p>“We don’t know how to make more ammo for this one yet,” Jonny says, gently taking the gun from its hand. “Try to only use it when we need to until Raph gets back, alright, Soldier?”</p><p>“Can do, Jonny!” it salutes and Jonny chuckles lightly as he hands it back the gun.</p>
<hr/><p>Jonny curses and drops the paintbrush again, his hand twitching oddly. He stands only a couple of inches from the mirror, trying in vain to apply the signature cracks around his eyes before the show. Everyone else was ready or was getting ready, getting into stage clothes and putting on their own makeup. Thankfully Jonny’s normal outfit doesn’t change much from his stage clothes and he does the same makeup every day, so he’s usually one of the first done along with the Toy Soldier, who really only puts a new coat of sealant on. Today, though, he kept applying just too much or too little and it was taking absolutely ages to get done.</p><p>A knock comes at his door. He grits his teeth and curses, grabbing the eyeliner in a tight fist in a way that’s entirely not useful for what he’s trying to do. Reluctantly, he storms to his door and slides it open, immediately glaring.</p><p>Standing in the doorway is the Toy Soldier, face still slightly shiny from the new coat of sealant. It’s in a different uniform than it usually wears. Jonny barely recognizes it as the normcolonel uniform he finished mending just last year. It wears the uniform proudly, a new Aurora patch sewn into the sleeve messily in a way that Jonny is sure it did on its own. He can’t help the small swell of pride that he gets looking at the messy stitches around the patch. Worn like a backpack is its mandolin case and in its right hand is Nastya’s violin case, which has wires coiled around it like a snake.</p><p>“Are you almost done, Jonny?” it asks, smiling. “Nastya is getting impatient. She said if you’re not out soon she’s dragging you out.”</p><p>Jonny groans and rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not done,” he snaps, glaring still. “Just because she can’t be bothered to clean the engine grease out of her hair doesn’t mean she gets to gloat when she’s faster than I am.”</p><p>“What’s taking you?” it asks. “You’re usually done with me and I took longer this time to change.”</p><p>“Body paint is being a bitch,” he says, sighing and lifting the black-coated paintbrush up, fist still closed tightly around it. The Toy Soldier tilts its head in puppy-like confusion. “It’s my makeup, little rose. It’s how I get the cracks around my eyes.”</p><p>“Do you want help? Ashes lets me do their eyeliner sometimes.”</p><p>“It’s not the same as Ashes’ eyeliner. It's actually very different than Ashes' eyeliner. Ashes' eyeliner isn't a paintbrush”</p><p>“I can still try,” it says, eyes narrowing. “You helped me with my paint. Let me help you.”</p><p>“That’s… awfully considerate of you,” he says hesitantly. He takes a few steps back from the door to allow the Toy Soldier in. “I mean, sure, if you really want to help me then fine, you can do it. As long as it looks alright then I won’t shoot you for it.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t shoot me right before a concert,” the Toy Soldier says, gladly taking the paintbrush from Jonny and the bottle of body paint from the desk.</p><p>“Don’t test your luck,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.</p><p>The Toy Soldier moves in silently, carefully holding Jonny’s jaw in its hand. It doesn’t take long for it to do the makeup and Jonny appreciates that its one of the only crew members that doesn’t have to breathe in his face while applying his makeup. He doesn’t often let any of the crew do his makeup because they either breathe in his face or make fun of him the entire time. One of the only exceptions to that rule is Nastya, who makes fun of him almost constantly so doing it about his makeup is no different. She does his makeup better than the others anyway. Ashes always applies it too thick, Tim likes to stab him with the paintbrush, Ivy’s lines are too organized, Brian grumbles when he does it and intentionally blows air into Jonny’s eyes, Raph likes to get “experimental” which is never fun for him and one time she applied clown makeup to his face, and Marius just talks a lot while Jonny is forced to not say anything back no matter how much he wants to or Marius will snap at him for moving and pull at his skin in retaliation.</p><p>It only takes half a minute before the Toy Soldier backs up from Jonny, letting him stand. It smiles warmly as he walks over to the mirror and inspects its work. Surprisingly, it didn’t actually apply a lot. He remembers the lines being almost exactly the same as they were for a photoshoot Ashes forced them to do on the riverside of some random planet he doesn’t quite remember.</p><p>He usually puts it on thicker for concerts, lighting making smaller lines hard to see, but he doesn’t find himself commenting on it. Instead, he turns to the Toy Soldier, not smiling, and gently takes the paintbrush and body paint from it. He caps the body paint and sets it carelessly on the desk while tossing the paintbrush in a way that's going to cause a ton of paint to spatter on his desk.</p><p>“Sit down on the bed, I want to do something,” he instructs lightly, not putting enough into it for it to be considered an order. </p><p>The Toy Soldier looks confused but does it anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed with its hands in its lap, setting the violin case against the bed so it doesn’t fall over. Jonny walks around the side of the bed and crawls onto it. He kneels up on the bed and shuffles behind the Toy Soldier. To its surprise, he carefully removes its hat and tosses it into its lap. He undoes the many clips and pins keeping its hair up, surprisingly long because it doesn’t like to cut it. The long brown hair reaches to about its mid-back.</p><p>Slowly, he puts its hair into a tight braid that will allow it to move around without worrying about undoing his work. All the while, the Toy Soldier sits completely still.</p><p>“Alright, all done, little rose,” he says, sitting back on his heels. He snatches the hat from its lap and carefully sets it atop its head. “Now let’s get going before the crew decides they don’t care about dragging our dead bodies on stage.”</p>
<hr/><p>Gunshots ring out, bullets whizzing past his ears. Usually, this would be great. The rush of a gunfight was an amazing, electric feeling that got his blood pumping quick and hot through his veins. It still does that, to an extent, but there are more pressing things at the moment. Those things are getting out of Yggdrasil before the Bifrost hits. It wasn’t exactly easy considering that they were all very wanted and no one on the planet actually had any sense of urgency. Currently, they’re on Hel, wreaking havoc on the poor prison colony in just enough time to get off planet if Tim hadn’t decided to start a firefight. So, they were currently trying to get off of Hel and not be arrested or have their dead bodies be taken by the police deep into the swirling, imminent chaos of the Bifrost. So forgive Jonny for not exactly wanting to dilly dally with Tim’s bullshit.</p><p>“I told you this was a shit idea!” he yells as he runs, cold gunmetal biting into the flesh of his hand.</p><p>“Fuck you!” Tim yells back, voice high, and somewhat out of breath.</p><p>“Brian, I’d like it to go on record that this was Tim’s idea,” Jonny says into the comm that he raises to his face.</p><p>“I’m leaving you all behind if you don’t get to the ship in ten seconds,” Brian snaps.</p><p>“No, the fuck you won’t!” Jonny yells. “We’re not leaving a single fucker behind in the Bifrost. Do you hear me, you insubordinate piece of brass?”</p><p>“Then you better hurry because we do not have the time for this.”</p><p>Jonny all but growls as he shoves the comm into his pocket once again. He fumbles for his gun as another blast of plasma rushes past the skin of his ear. Currently running are him, Tim, Marius, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier, with Raph flying faster than all of them but keeping the pace with her gun trained on those chasing them. Jonny glances up to see her shooting off lead, the recoil further propelling her backward toward the ship. Plasma barely misses her as he deftly dodges all of it. Both she and Jonny curse when he sees a bolt hit her in the shoulder, making her fumble slightly with the gun before setting her aim straight again. He really hopes the narrative calls for them to actually survive this.</p><p>“How far are we out?” Jonny calls up to Ashes.</p><p>They glance at the tracker strapped to their wrist that looks exactly like a watch. “Only another minute before we’re there,” they yell back. “Keep going!”</p><p>“Wasn’t exactly planning on stopping, O'Reilly,” he says.</p><p>Suddenly, he hears the sound of a plasma bolt thunking on wood, sizzling it. It’s the same sound that it made when he was practicing shooting with the Toy Soldier. He wouldn’t be as concerned if there were any trees on Hel and not just dark rocks. He stops at the noise and the smell of smoke and turns just in time for the Toy Soldier to fall into him, back turned and gun trained at the incoming cavalry.</p><p>“What the fuck, Soldier?” he exclaims, catching it under the arms as it continues to fire shot after shot of superheated plasma.</p><p>He quickly scans it for injuries and immediately sees the sizzling remains of its right leg, blown clean off by a bolt of plasma. A cold rush runs through him as he watches it continue to shoot, face a dead frown of pure anger as every shot hits dead on.</p><p>“A bolt was gonna hit you, Captain!” it yells louder than the sound of gunfire. “I can take it, you’ll still fall.”</p><p>“Clearly not, your leg is gone!” he yells back to it. </p><p>Without thinking for another second on it, he hauls the Toy Soldier over his shoulder like a heavy sack and continues to run, keeping both hands on what remains of its legs. It’s surprisingly heavy, mostly made of dense woods, but the adrenaline carries him through as he continues on. He can hear the plasma blaster in its hand continue to fire shot after shot and the screams behind him. Soon, he hears the gun click empty. He fumbles his own trusty gun out of its holster and lifts it up for it to grab.</p><p>“How do I shoot this one?” it asks as it grabs it, shoving the empty Yggdrasil blaster into Jonny’s hands.</p><p>“Heavy bullets, aim straight at them, safety is in the normal place,” he instructs quickly, shoving the blaster into his pocket. “It only has six shots, Soldier. Use them wisely.”</p><p>“Why does your gun only have six bullets?!” it asks incredulously as it fires off a shot.</p><p>“It’s mostly for the aesthetic,” he says, though it’s slightly grumbled. “Almost there. Are you hurt?”</p><p>“Well my leg is gone, ol’ chap,” it jokes, he can hear it smiling. </p><p>“I meant are you in pain, you wanker.”</p><p>“Can’t feel a thing, Captain!”</p><p>“Jonny is fine. Can you not feel pain or is it the shock?”</p><p>“I only feel pain when I want to, Jonny! Right now, you lot are more important to protect than pretending to feel things.”</p><p>A dark laugh rips through Jonny’s throat as an Aurora hauler comes within sight. Marius gets to it first, jumping into the pilot’s seat and starting it up. Tim runs up to the door and grabs onto the frame, firing shots above Jonny’s head as he hangs out of the hauler, waiting for everyone to catch up. Raph hovers above them, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding the gun steady. Ashes rushes in, sitting beside Marius and ready to give the go-ahead. Jonny realizes he’s at the back of the group with the Toy Soldier as he approaches. He quickly ducks into the hauler next to Tim, who swings in quickly afterward. Raph is the last one in, swooping into the hauler right before the doors close and Marius jolts them into the sky without waiting for anyone to buckle into their seats. Jonny’s shoulder hits the wall and he grunts in pain before purposely falling to his knees to set down the Toy Soldier. He starts assessing it as the speed starts to stabilize.</p><p>“What happened to it?” Raph asks, her feet landing carefully on the ground.</p><p>“Just a bolt of plasma, ol’ chap!” the Toy Soldier exclaims. “It’ll only take a bit to grow back!”</p><p>Raph visibly winces as she crouches down. True to its word, the wood around where it had been burnt is already starting to reform. The scorch marks stay, though, and the leg of its pants are singed where the leg was blown off. Thankfully, there’s no gore or bone to be grossed out over, which Jonny is glad for as he sits on the floor of the hauler, catching his breath. Soon enough, he digs the Toy Soldier’s plasma blaster out of his pocket and deposits it in his lap.</p><p>“Good job, Soldier,” he says, voice strained and tired.</p>
<hr/><p>Jonny has shot Raph at least five times for her little “experiment,” yet she’s recovering a lot faster than he is. He curses and stomps out of the lab, kicking her quickly recovering body for good measure. He pulls the knife from his throat and throws it to the ground as he leaves, hearing the automatic doors slide shut behind him. He feels blood trickle down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. Did she have to do this while he was wearing a white shirt? He’s just going to have to toss it, there’s no way to get this amount of blood out of this shirt.</p><p>As he storms off in the direction of the bridge, not sure of what his objective is at this point other than having a good reason not to shoot anyone, he turns a corner right into a blur of black and red. The person is stiff and hard and at the fact that it’s not golden or brass, he’s quick to realize the person he just walked right into with enough force to knock him to the ground at the sudden stop is the Toy Soldier, who looks down at him in confusion.</p><p>“Why are you bleeding?” it asks instead of trying to help him up.</p><p>He glares and gets his bearings. He jumps up, soft grumbles hurting his throat, but not enough for him to actually care so he does it anyway. The Toy Soldier furrows its brow as much as it’s able, tilting its head to the side as Jonny brushes itself off. Right, it asked a question.</p><p>“Raphaella la Cognizi,” he says in a venom-filled rasp.</p><p>“Why did she do that?” it asks.</p><p>“She wanted to find out if I would lose my voice if it was funny enough to her,” he explains. “Apparently, the answer is yes.”</p><p>“You lost your voice?” it looks surprised.</p><p>Suddenly, Jonny feels its wooden grasp around his wrist. He jolts at this, a small panic going through him just for a second before the Toy Soldier takes off in a march, pulling him with it. He kind of wants to shoot it for that but it probably just forgot so he doesn’t. He’s too curious to see what it’s doing to shoot it just yet. </p><p>The Toy Soldier drags him all the way to the commons and he flinches under the lights as he looks into the room. He’s still confused as it drags him all the way to the kitchen and finally lets go of his wrist when it gets to the stove.</p><p>“I told you not to do that,” he whispers, bringing a hand to his wrist to rub the feeling away.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” it says quickly, going to the kettle. “No whispering. It’s bad for your voice.”</p><p>“I don’t think it’s the same thing, songbird,” he complains, but obliges, talking in a painful rasp.</p><p>The Toy Soldier fills the kettle with warm water from the tap and quickly puts it on the stove, clicking the burner on. “Stand by the kettle, it’ll help,” it says, pointing.</p><p>It doesn’t move until Jonny starts to hover near the kettle. He’s a little spiteful when it starts to boil and the vapor actually soothes his throat some. He pouts in annoyance as the Toy Soldier rummages through the cabinets. It puts out an array of tea bags, the same ones as he did: chamomile, lemon, and peppermint. That combination really doesn’t taste amazing to him and he wishes he picked a better one when he was showing the Toy Soldier how to heal a sore throat. He doesn’t complain, though, especially when it also pulls out the honey.</p><p>The water takes a while to boil and the tea takes a while to steep but the whole time, the Toy Soldier doesn’t try to start up a conversation with Jonny. Instead, it hums as it prepares everything, dancing a little on its feet as it does so. Jonny doesn’t tend to watch it during concerts, too wrapped up in his own deal. Sometimes he gets to, though, and it often moves like this, stiff but jittery movements that somehow go to the beat of the music as it wears something that is not a smile but not a frown.</p><p>By the time the Toy Soldier sets the cup of tea in front of him his throat is already healed. He doesn’t say that, though, and instead takes a sip of the tea to humor it. The Toy Soldier takes a sip of its tea as well, a smile popping onto its face. Jonny is very surprised when the tea doesn’t taste as weird as it’s supposed to. He glares into the cup in confusion, reluctant to take another sip.</p><p>“I put sugar in it!” the Toy Soldier says, smiling. “You like your tea sweet. Lemon and chamomile are sour so I put sugar in the tea.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, surprised. “That’s rather nice of you, songbird.”</p><p>“Your voice is already better!” it exclaims. “The tea must’ve worked!”</p><p>“Something like that,” Jonny says, shrugging. He doesn’t smile until the cup is fully obscuring his face.</p>
<hr/><p>Jonny finds the Toy Soldier in the commons that day. That’s not entirely uncommon. The Toy Soldier is usually in one of four places: the commons, the bridge, the practice room, or its bedroom. Least commonly its bedroom, unless it was pretending to sleep. What is uncommon about the situation is the fact that it sits on the couch before a procession of octokittens that are all slightly glowing a hundred different colors that make Jonny’s eyes hurt to look at. Next to it is a small, wooden box made of pale wood with no wood stain that is a mess of fabrics and string. In its hands is also a mess of fabric and string and cotton.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he asks, standing far from the glowing octokittens.</p><p>“I’m sewing!” it says, eyes trained on the fabric.</p><p>It does, in fact, seem to be sewing. The fabric that it’s using looks black and is covered in multi-colored pins. He can’t see what it’s actually making, though, even as he inches closer, still far from the octokittens. </p><p>“I’m almost done,” it says, leaning in further to watch the stitch. Blue string on black fabric. “Just one more…”</p><p>It pulls the needle through a few more stitches before pulling it tight. It cuts the string on the inside of one of its joints and quickly ties it up. It flips the object inside-out, revealing that the fabric on the outside is covered in hair-like fibers. The blue string only shows in some places as it shows Jonny the crude, octokitten-shaped object, complete with eight tentacles, all of which are limp without any stuffing.</p><p>“I’ve been practicing,” it tells him, lowering the object back onto its lap. “It’s an octokitten. It doesn’t glow like they do, though.”</p><p>“Why, of all creatures, did you decide to sew up one of these monstrosities?” Jonny asks, glaring at the things that have now turned to look at him.</p><p>The Toy Soldier starts picking at the cotton stuffing and gently pushes it through the still-open gap at the neck of the octokitten, moving the cotton into each individual tentacle. “You don’t seem to like actual octokittens that much,” it says, “so I thought I’d make one you wouldn’t mind being around. Then I was going to make one for Tim and one for Ivy since they both seem to like the octokittens as much as I do.”</p><p>“I still don’t understand why you like these things so much,” he says, shifting awkwardly as it seems the sea of octokittens gets closer to him. </p><p>“They’re nice if you’re nice back,” it says with a shrug. “Well, I also can’t feel it when they nibble on me. Tim said it isn’t pleasant to be nibbled on so I don’t pretend to feel it.”</p><p>“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that, doll?” he attempts to skirt around the octokittens to get closer to the couch but isn’t finding any ease in doing so. “You don’t have to make me some stuffed version of the little monsters.”</p><p>“I know,” it says, voice calm as it ignores Jonny’s plight. “I want to, though, ol’ chap.”</p><p>“Why?” his nose crinkles up as he gets inches closer to the couch, trying to circle behind it to avoid the godforsaken things on the floor.</p><p>“You do things for me all the time,” it explains. “I want to do something for you. So, I’m making you an octokitten.”</p><p>“You do things for me, doll,” he says incredulously, climbing over the back of the couch. He swings his legs over the front so he sits on top of it, looking down at the Toy Soldier as it continues to carefully stuff the doll. “Hell, you took a bullet for me in Yggdrasil. You don’t need to sew me something to make up for me… I don’t know, painting your face once.”</p><p>“I want to, though,” it insists. “I’m not doing this because I have to. It’s a present, Jonny.”</p><p>“Oh…” he looks down at it as the Toy Soldier picks up the needle again to sew the stuffing hole shut. “Thank you, then.”</p><p>“Your welcome, ol’ chap!” it exclaims, leaning in to focus on the stitch.</p><p>“Do you want me to braid your hair again, doll?” he asks, shifting closer. “You can work on Tim and Ivy’s octokittens while I do it.”</p><p>“But we don’t have a concert?” it glances up at Jonny, confusion written all over its face.</p><p>“We don’t have to have a concert for me to braid your hair,” he shrugs. “Consider a present.”</p><p>“That’s not what presents are.”</p><p>“Is it a present if I do it all fancy?”</p><p>“It could be.”</p><p>“Then I’ll do it all fancy like Nastya used to wear. Do you remember when Nastya had long hair?”</p><p>“Oh, yes! She had her hair up in a bun with a braid wrapped around it! Can you do that for me?”</p><p>“I think I can do that, doll.”</p><p>“Oh, jolly good!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, this was a long one. If no one could tell, the Toy Soldier is in fact my favorite at all times and I'm on a personal campaign to make sure everyone appreciates the Toy Soldier. Or else!<br/>Find me @fracnkie or @bryon-von-raum on Tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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